It was my 50th day on the PCT, and I was about to begin a final four days making up the miles of the Desert Section that I had yet to hike, starting from where I flipped ahead back in April, at Highway 74 in Anza, headed northbound to Fobes Saddle.
From PCT mile 151.9 to 166.6 Total: 14.7 miles 12/14
This was the first step in my completion of California Section B, which I skipped. Back when the snows were so deep in the San Jacinto Mountains, most of my fellow thru hikers took an alternate trail to Idyllwild rather than dare the dangerously icy slopes above 7000 feet elevation. All of the SoCal mountains were buried in snow during the Winter of 2023, and I avoided them all. It wasn’t until the Fall, after heavy rains in late Summer, that I decided to make up for it. First I finished Section D, then Section C, and now Section B. I did all of them northbound, as is proper. But I have to admit that I saved Section B, the San Jacinto Mountains, for last. Why? Because I love them the most. Of course, I’ve also spent the most time in the area, so there was no rush, either.
The trick to doing this section was to leave my car at the far end of the hike, and have Vicki drive me back to the beginning. We’ve done this before. Since I had fifteen miles of uphill hiking planned, we left San Diego in the wee hours, and arrived near I-10 before dawn.
Then we drove south through Palm Springs, ate breakfast at a Jack in the Box, and continued onward, up the hill to the PCT trailhead in Anza. By then it was well beyond dawn, and it was time for me to go. Vicki was sad to see me leave, but she knew that I simply had to finish this section. She took an official photo of me, all clean and fresh, and then she headed home. Thanks, Vicki!
There was some new signage at the Trailhead. One of them mentioned the Mountain Fire of 2013, when a large portion of this trail was burnt. Vicki and I hiked this portion of the PCT on Memorial Day weekend, three weeks before the fire. In other words, I got some of the last photos of this area in all its unburnt glory. And I hadn’t been back since. Ten years had gone by, and I expected the chapparal to be mostly renewed by this time, but not the pines and larger oak trees. Today and tomorrow would be my opportunity to test this hypothesis.
The other sign showed mileages, and the two last ones were the important ones: 15 miles to Fobes Saddle (tonight) and 28 to Saddle Junction (tomorrow night). But it didn’t mention how many thousands of feet I would have to climb to reach these goals. Let’s put it this way: A LOT.
The first miles were all about climbing. The vegetation was mostly brush and chapparal, so the photos weren’t exciting, and I didn’t take very many. I just climbed and climbed, one step in front of the other. It was morning, and I was still fresh, so the miles flew by. The sun sets early in mid-December, and I knew that I had to keep moving if I was going to make it into camp before dark.
The grade eased off after I reached the top of the long ridge, and the views got better in every direction. This is why we hike the PCT! Stellar views from the crest itself. There were large, distant mountains, plus local ones, as the trail wound along through a number of smaller peaks directly on (or next to) the long ridge itself. The last time we were here it had been extremely windy out of the west, howling across the ridge so we were always grateful for any sort of wind break from the bushes, but this time it was nice. The weather forecast indicated that tomorrow would be windy, a cold breeze out of the northeast, mostly in my face. As long as tonight was calm I should be OK. Tomorrow night would have to look out for itself.
After twelve miles of hiking, I reached the side trail down to Cedar Spring. Amazingly, Vicki actually made it this far in one day, through a mighty triumph of willpower. We camped just below the ridge to avoid the wind, and got water at the spring in the morning. It was a truly beautiful spring, with huge cedar trees, and I heard that they didn’t burn during the fire. But I wouldn’t be checking that now, as I had plenty of water. Plus, it was late afternoon already, and I still had three more miles to hike!
Just after that, I came upon the first signs of the Mountain Fire. And I was wrong. The chapparal hadn’t returned to its former glory, although it was doing quite well, with many plants growing back from their roots, which often stay alive after the fire.
It wasn’t until I made it to the 7000 foot mark that I saw some actual pine trees. I’ll bet the aircraft were dumping fire retardant on these trees like crazy during the fire. And it worked. Palm View Peak was still in good shape, tree-wise, and a pleasure to hike. The views were pretty good, too. This is also where I first came upon traces of snow, left over from a recent storm. Oh boy. I thought it must’ve all melted by now, but no. And I would be climbing up to 8000 feet tomorrow, and 9000 the day after. But that was tomorrow’s problem. Right? Right.
All I really wanted to do by then was get into camp. Waking up at 2am will do that to you. The trail finally showed me the deep cleft of Fobes Saddle on the north side of Palm View Peak. It was about a thousand feet down. Tomorrow I would have to regain that thousand feet. Poor Tomorrow, it had so many problems. Meanwhile, it was time to head downhill, for some hopefully easy hiking.
Naturally, it all went sideways when I was less than a mile from the saddle. Or perhaps “downways” is the better word. I was happily hiking along when I came across a small downed tree. Happens all the time. I stepped over it, kept on hiking, but my toe caught on the log. The next thing I knew I had crashed to the ground! I landed on my hands and knees. At least I didn’t faceplant with the big weight on my back, but oh, my poor knees! I slipped off my pack (because I had to as it was so heavy above me) and then rolled over and swung my legs around until they aimed downhill off the side of the trail. I sat there breathing heavily. I looked down at my knees. My pants were torn and I was obviously bleeding on the left one. I didn’t expect it, but I felt a bit “shocky” and decided to lay backward onto my pack. I hoped I was remembering my First Aid Merit Badge instructions correctly. I breathed for a while until the lightheadedness stopped. Then I got out my phone and took some photos. Yes, that’s what I do in an emergency: Take photos. Then I felt my knee and tried to bend it. It felt fine, beyond the surface pain of a skin scrape. I warned my knee that I was too far away from civilization for larger damage. And there wasn’t any! I eventually stood up and put my pack back on.
But the PCT wasn’t done with me yet! Apparently, falling down had opened the door to the Twilight Zone, the land of nightmares. The brush on the trail was suddenly horribly overgrown. I was pushing through branches. More dead trees were across the trail, and this time they were at chest height, so I had to (ouch!) get down on my damaged knees to crawl under them! There were a number of trees that were equally annoying. This is where the Mountain Fire did its real damage. After ten years, the dead trees were finally falling. It would probably be worse next year. Luckily I wouldn’t be here, I thought. I was never coming back here, ever, I thought yet again.
A quarter mile later and the nightmare zone was a thing of the past. The trail was wonderful again. I cruised along, with only a half mile left until camp. Life was good, and my knee was working.
That’s precisely when disaster struck again! I tripped on the smallest of semi-submerged rocks, and went crashing down onto my knees again. OW! I yelled out loud. Once again, I was sitting on the trail. New blood seemed to be seeping from my knee this time, or else it broke open what had just finished coagulating.
Five minutes later and I arrived at the saddle. There was a really nice spot just to the left, under some unburnt oak trees. Nice! It wasn’t windy, and the oaks offered a bit of protection anyway, so I voted to camp right there. I set down the pack and walked a bit further, to see what else the saddle offered. Not much, it turned out. I knew that there was water if I was willing to hike down the road toward Fobes Ranch, but I didn’t care about that. I carried all the water I needed, as my knees will tell you.
I set up the tent as the air cooled down. I got everything inside and blew up the air mattress. Then out came the sleeping bag and night clothes, plus some extra goose down layers. I expected it to get chilly that night. Meanwhile, the sun was still shining on the tent, and it warmed up the interior just enough to take the edge off while I got dressed in the extra layers. My timing had been great, even after the nightmarish delays.
After that, it was time to use some of that water I carried all this way! I cooked up a packet of ramen noodles, right there in the vestibule of the tent. I wasn’t going to budge from either the tent or my air mattress unless I had to. Then I munched some salty chips and had a good drink of Gatorade, from powder. I texted Vicki about the knee injury, and then I realized that I had signal and could call her instead. We spoke for a while. It was good to hear her voice. And then it was time for sleeping. As I lay there I realized that I hadn’t seen another human all day, and I didn’t expect to see any tomorrow. The time for SOBO thru hiking was long since over. Only crazy people and Men on a Mission hiked along here at this time of year. I wasn’t entirely sure which one of those I was.
For a topographic map of the hike see my CalTopo Page
For LOTS more photos of the trek see my Flickr Page
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